


Handcrafted Ornaments

by PanicFOB



Series: Skywalkin' [2]
Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: Christmas Time, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:02:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21648004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PanicFOB/pseuds/PanicFOB
Summary: You and Sebastian decorate your first tree together after having moved in with him a few months prior to the holiday season. This takes place after my Skywalkin' series so please read that first.
Relationships: Sebastian Stan/Reader
Series: Skywalkin' [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1560643
Comments: 5
Kudos: 33





	Handcrafted Ornaments

The mood had been set perfectly. Snowflakes fell hard against the window panes of the apartment. You drug out your record player and all the Christmas vinyls you owned, craving that crackle that came through the speakers as the needle dragged across “Let It Snow.” Seb had lit the beautiful fireplace, and a thawing heat crept through every inch of the living room. You were drinking Chamomile while your boyfriend was unwisely taking down his fourth cup of coffee for the day, and it wasn’t decaf. He had just flown back in to NYC earlier that morning, and you could tell how sleepy he was. As the two of you sat on the couch, you stared at the four boxes arranged on the floor before you.

The first contained the reusable Christmas tree. Neither of you had the time or the energy to go and buy a live one. The second contained strings of lights and tinsel. The third contained Sebastian’s personal ornaments. And the fourth contained yours.

You rubbed your palms together in a let’s-get-down-to-business sort of way. “First things first, we’ve got to get this tree put together.”

“I still don’t understand why you didn’t want to use the one that I had where the limbs were already attached and easily folded out.”

“Because that takes all the fun out of it, Seb.”

He rolled his eyes. “Putting color-coded branches on a tree is your idea of fun?”

“Noooo, Christmas traditions are my idea of fun. This is the type of tree we’ve used every year throughout my childhood. It’s the type of tree I bought when I was first on my own. It’s what I know, what I love. It just wouldn’t feel like Christmas if we didn’t do it this way.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. No need to get up in arms about it, my love.” He began opening the box and sorting the branches by the colored labels on them. You studied the living room for a perfect place to display the tree and then finally settled on the corner just next to the fireplace. You placed the base and smoothed out the pretty tree skirt around it. The skirt had been Seb’s, a snowy white adorned with silver intricacies. He insisted it was far more aesthetic looking than the one you had patterned with dogs dressed as elves.

You hummed along to the record playing as the tree slowly came together. Sebastian got over his grumbles about having to do it this way and was soon dancing around the living room with tinsel draped over his shoulders like a feather boa. That was one performing art Sebastian had never been gifted with: dancing. Singing too, for that matter. But you loved watching him dance and listening to him sing anyway. You sneakily slipped your phone out of the back pocket of your jeans and started recording the little show he was putting on. He was so focused on his “killer” dance moves that he never even noticed you had filmed him.

Once the two of you spent what felt like hours untangling jumbles of lights, you carefully draped the cords around the tree, arranging the rows of tinsel just parallel to the twinkling lights. “All right, Seb, let’s do your ornaments first.”

He plopped down in a chair next to the tree and pulled his box over to him.

What you never realize before moving in with a significant other for the first time is that everybody owns really strange things that they don’t think are strange at all. As you merge two houses of stuff into one, you find yourself asking so many questions about quirky items that this person your sharing a life with has decided to keep for some mysterious reason. There were a great number of strange things that Sebastian owned which he seemed to have no explanation for. And the same applied to your own belongings. It was no different with Christmas tree ornaments.

As Sebastian pulled each one out of his box, you would study it with confusion until he explained where it had come from. “This one a designer friend had hand-crafted for me…”

“Oh, that one my mother had made for me on the first Christmas after I had moved out…”

“This one was a gift from Robert…”

“Robert Downey Jr.?”

“Yeah, that one…”

“Awe, I remember this one. It was crafted in memory of my grandmother…”

They were all so fancy, designed by true artists, made of expensive materials. Each one of them looked so perfect dangling from the tree.

Then, it was your turn. By this point, you were regretting not having just thrown your box of ornaments in some dumpster before ever showing them to Sebastian. You nervously pulled out the first one. “Uh, this one was crafted by me when I was seven.” It was a Santa Clause face made out of macaroni and glue.

Sebastian had the decency to look a little ashamed of himself as he burst into a fit of laughter.

You decided to ignore him and persevere. “This one was made by me when I was ten.” It was a reindeer built out of popsicle sticks.

“My brother gave me this for my thirteenth Christmas.” It was a crappy photo of the two of you as teenagers, framed by a cheap plastic wreath.

It went on like this for a while, and you cursed yourself for stubbornly holding on to every pathetic looking ornament you had ever made in elementary school.

Next, you got to all the nerd ornaments. There were all the characters from Star Wars and Game of Thrones. You had a few miniature figurines of the Harry Potter books. Finally, you presented him the Bucky Barnes ornament you had purchased at the comic con when he hadn’t been looking.

“Wow,” was all your boyfriend could muster before snapping pictures of all the ridiculous ornaments you had added to the tree.

Sebastian carefully placed the star at the top of the tree since he was tall enough to reach, and then the two of you collapsed on the couch together once again.

You pulled out your phone and showed him the video you had recorded. “Can I post it on Insta? Please please please, Seb?”

He had his hands covering his face, embarrassed at his own goofy antics. “No way in hell am I letting you put that on the internet.”

“But it’s amazing and dorky and sexy, and you know everybody will absolutely love it. Please, Seb?” you begged him. It wasn’t often that you felt the need to share parts of your personal lives with his fans, but this was something so golden you simply couldn’t keep it to yourself.

He finally let his eyes peek out from between his fingers, a mischievous glimmer in those steel-blue orbs. “Only if you let me post the photos I took of your hilarious handcrafted ornaments.”

It was your turn to feel embarrassed, but you weren’t about to let him blackmail you out of posting the video. “Fine,” you conceded.

He posted the photos with the caption, “Some new additions to the tree this year. Who knew Y/N was such an artist?”

With the video you posted, you wrote, “The best home entertainment a woman could ask for.”


End file.
